


(This Ain't) A Love Song

by MerryWriting



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, F/M, Pining, Rebound Sex, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Love, a smidgen of worship, dancing with danse, im a little sorry, im not even sorry, lots of guilt, so much shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryWriting/pseuds/MerryWriting
Summary: Prompted by Azm0n on Tumblr - Female Sole Survivor confesses love to Nick Valentine, but he rejects her.





	(This Ain't) A Love Song

That greasy, pit of the stomach heaving that came along told Nora that one of three things could be wrong. One, she had eaten something terrible – in the wasteland, this was always a strong contender. Two, she had severe heat exhaustion, or, three, she was in love again.

 

The thing was, she hadn’t eaten in two days and they were in the middle of a hard, long winter. She licked her lips and looked at Nick across the makeshift fire in the rundown shelter and sighed, _oh shit._ Realistically it would have made more sense to fall for Sturges, or Preston, hell even Hancock; Nick was many things, but human wasn’t one of them. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Humans these days were… different. Nick dressed, sounded, felt like home. Like him.

 

Nora closed her eyes and took a deep breath, no longer comfortable. The crackle and pop of the fire grated on her nerves, the silence of him only hammered home that he wasn’t what she needed him to be,

“You doing alright?” That voice, rich and rounded with just a hint of mechanical hiss, jerked her back into the moment,

“Fine,” she said,

“You seem to be a little, under the weather?” Nicks yellow eyes flicked over her a few times in quick succession,

“I’ll feel better when we get back to Sanctuary,” she said, “a shower and a hot meal do wonders for any kind of ill.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, Nick,” Nora said, curling her toes inside her ratty boots, “I’m not sick.”

“I see.”

 

Silence.

 

“Do you want to move on?” Nick stood, “The sun’ll be rising soon.”

“I… sure,” Nora said and struggled to her feet. No point in reminding him they hadn’t slept. He didn’t sleep, anyway, and they were only a few hours from home. She walked the line between being close enough for safety, but far enough away that they wouldn’t accidentally touch. Oh yes, she remembered this sweaty, shaking, need to be as close as possible and somehow never see him again. _Shit, shit, shit, shit,_

“Nora.” Nick stopped in front of her, but he wasn’t looking out at danger; he was stared down at her.

“Nick?” She fought to keep eye contact,

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-”

“Nora. We’ve been working together for a year now, I know there’s something wrong.” He said it so simply as if there was nothing else that mattered,

“I... really don’t want to talk about this now, Nick,” Nora said and looked down at her feet,

“You nearly walked right into a dormant ghoul,” he said, and motioned to a dead feral, “you didn’t even hear the gunshot. You’re not on form.” Nora blinked rapidly, _motherfucker,_

“Nick-”

“I’m not moving until you tell me,” he said, “it’s too dangerous to stroll through the wasteland with your head in the clouds.”

 

 

Damn it, but he was right,

“Shit,” she hissed, and then sat on a fallen tree. Nick carefully deposited himself near her, but not by her side. Already he knew that it was something to do with him, _too smart._ “Ok, look Nick… I…” Nora picked her nail bed, “I… my feelings toward you have changed,” she said, voice strangled,

“I see,” he said, “you want me to go back to the agency?”

“What? No!” She yelped,

“What did I do to upset you?”

“Nick,” she sighed, “you haven’t upset me, I’m not angry at you… I…”

“What?” Nick tilted his head with a series of quiet clicks,

“I love you.” The words were pulsing and alive on her tongue, but he said nothing, “I’m _in_ love with you.”

Still nothing. The warm buzzing became a cold churning when he blinked slowly; the whirr of cogs in his mind was almost visible,

“Ah… you’re serious?” His voice became stilted, “Look at me, Nora, I’m an old synth… beat up, broken. I don’t even look human.”

“I don’t care what you are, Nick, you’re… the most human person I know out here…” Nora swallowed the lump that was building, hard, “I love you for everything you are.”

“Wow, hey… well, thanks, I… love you too, I guess. And that’s all that matters.” Nick said with a smile that tore her heart in two. It shouldn’t be a surprise, of course; he wasn’t really human. He seemed human, and maybe he even felt human, but all those messy chemicals that ruled love and desire and lust… they weren’t in there.

 

He did love her, too; Nora knew he was being honest with her because he always had been. He loved her in whatever way he could, but it wasn’t the same,

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, voice quiet,

“I know.” She smiled and nodded, trying to ignore the tears that trickled down her face, “I know. Let’s move.”

 

She still wasn’t focussed, not really, but he said nothing. The bleak, grey landscape around them was enough of a distraction, however, that she could pretend the drying tears weren’t there. Sanctuary loomed from the early morning smog like a dream of grimy neon and barbeque smoke. Her mouth watered as the scent of cooking meat hit her nostrils; Nora licked her lips as they approached the main gate,

“I’m going to shower and sleep… I’ll come find you if I need you, Nick,” she said, eyes on the ground,

“I’m always here for you, kid,” he said, and her heart contracted painfully, _is he trying to make this better or worse?_

“I know.” She managed a smile and fled, brushing past every concerned face until she could shut the shower door and sob into her cupped palms. The gritty, lemon-scented soap, homemade by Marcy Long of all people, scrubbed off the dirt and two layers of skin before her tears dried up, and Nora left the shower tingling. Towel firmly wrapped around herself she fished a bottle of whisky from under the bed and took a long swig,

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t dressed.” Danse’s voice made her jump,

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Nora crossed her legs, “are you alright, Danse?”

“Fine, I… just,” he trailed away, dark eyes flitting around the room, “I heard you crying.”

“Oh…” Nora looked down, “two seconds.” She grabbed a sundress and panties from her dressed and slipped into the bathroom. When she returned he was sitting on the bed looking decidedly awkward,

“Are you alright?” He asked, smiling gratefully when she passed him the whisky, “I can leave if you would prefer to be alone?”

“I…” tears threatened, “No, actually, Danse I would like some company.” _I’m so tired of being alone,_ he nodded,

“Alright then. I have a bottle of this somewhere, I’ll… go get it and come back?” He raised his brows,

“Sure, thanks.” She sniffed and wiped her face,

“And some food, perhaps?”

“Please.”

 

 

He came back with two bottles and two plates of hot, crackling brahmin meat,

“Fresh cooked,” he smiled,

“Nothing better,” Nora said and wolfed it down, wincing as it burned her lips and fingertips. Danse watched her eat with a strange expression on his face,

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked,

“No.” Nora shook her head and threw back her whisky before shakily setting up her sound system; a rare find, but getting unscathed vinyls was harder still. She flicked through the seven or eight she had managed to scrounge together and settled for a Marty Robbins album.

“ _To the town of Agua Frida rode a stranger one fine day…”_

She smiled at the cheesy country twang and sniffed,

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” she said with a laugh, “but I would like to talk.”

“Alright.” He nodded, biting his lip, “You know,” he said after a few moments of silence, “when I was an initiate myself, there was this town – out in the middle of nowhere, and everyone there dressed in Nuka Cola merchandise,” he laughed, “the mayor wore the Nuka Girl outfit, you know the white, space-age one?”

“Oh wow,” Nora laughed, “did it suit her.” Danse grinned,

“Oh, he was very fetching in it.”

 

Nora coughed and spluttered, spraying whisky across the room, and Danse threw back his head, letting out a rich, deep laugh. The ache in her chest started to subside as the whisky diffused warmth through her and their talk became softer, more personal. The vinyl ended, and Danse motioned to it,

“May I?”

Nora nodded. The rich, deep voice of Dean Martin filled the room,

“I didn’t take you as a fan of Dean Martin,” she smiled,

“Well, I suppose there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, “though that didn’t stop you from saving my life.” They smiled at each other for a few moments,

“I suppose that’s true,” she said, “how are you coping now?”

“Well enough,” he inclined his head, “the more I just live, the less it seems to matter that I was… _made._ By all accounts, synths like… like me, we function as humans do. My memories before joining the brotherhood may be fake, but everything else,” he waved his hands, “is me, and I’m learning to like that.”

“Good,” she smiled, “I’m so glad.” He grinned at her and something in the air shifted,

_“the memories you gave’a me…”_

“I’ve been learning to dance,” he said suddenly, “would you like to see how little progress I’ve made?” He chuckled, and Nora laughed,

“Alright.”

 

 

Dancing with a six-foot-five giant wasn’t easy, but he made it less complex than it should have been. Eventually, she slipped a pair of heels on,

“You’re a liar,” Nora snorted, “you dance better than I do.” Danse shrugged his heavy shoulders and spun her under his arm,

“Perhaps I just wanted to dance with you,” he said with a smile, and Nora's heart jumped into overdrive,

“Oh? Is that right Danse?”

“Call me Malcolm,” he said softly,

“You chose a name?” Nora asked, and he nodded, “Ok, Malcolm. Nice to meet you.”

“And you.” He smiled again. _It is a nice smile,_ it was lopsided, goofy. Not as professional, nor as polished as Nicks. She looked down, “Are you alright?” He didn’t stop their dance,

“Yes, no… I… can I ask you a terribly pathetic question?” She looked up at him, eyes burning,

“There’s nothing pathetic about you,” he said, “but yes, you can ask me anything.”

“Am I unlovable?”

 

 _Oh Lord, girl, is this what we’ve come to?_ Nora swallowed the shame, chewed on it with every step,

“No, not at all,” he said quietly, “I think you’re the most lovable person I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.” Nora covered her mouth and sobbed quietly, “Come on,” he ushered her back to the bed, “sit down.” Danse walked away. The tap ran in the bathroom, and presented her with a glass of water and a handkerchief,

“Thank you.” She whispered,

“That’s quite alright,” the bed dipped as he sat beside her, “talk to me, Nora, what’s happened?”

“It’s…”

“Nick.”

“Yes,” she laughed, “oh God am I that transparent?”

“It’s clear you care for him,” Danse said,

“Well he doesn’t care for me,” she said with sudden spite, and then sighed, “not in the same way. I know it’s not his fault, he… he probably can’t feel these things.”

“That’s very possible,” Danse said quietly,

“I just… never thought I’d have to deal with all this…” she waved her hands, “not after Nate. I just wanted things to be simple, at least in this way.” He nodded,

“I understand,” he said, “what will you do?”

“Try to move on,” she laughed weakly, “pick myself up and deal with my feelings like a big girl.” His heavy, warm hand landed on her shoulder,

“I have complete faith that you will,” he said, and paused, “can I help at all? Would… you like a hug?”

 

Nora raised her head and then sniffed,

“Alright,” she laughed and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, relaxing into his grip when he wrapped his arms around her. Slowly they parted and he poured two more drinks, “How about Dion next?” She laughed, “There’s some in the Jukebox in the social area? More room to dance, as well.”

Danse grinned, threw back his drink and nodded,

“Let's go.”

 

 

 

Nora staggered, laughing weakly as they crashed back into her house. The luxury of her own home was something not to be sniffed at; though Sanctuary was becoming crowded, they respected the sanctity of her old life enough to leave her home be. Of course, they used it when she was gone, but that was only fair. Nora flopped onto her bed,

“No,” she said, “don’t go yet. Sit with me, stay with me,” she gripped his hand, “there’s- there’s a spare bed next door. Stay.” He nodded and sat beside her, and slowly gave into gravity and weariness. They lay side by side and laced their fingers together,

“I think… I think you should dance more,” he said slowly, “you looked happy.”

“I am happy.” She said, and found it was true, “I’ll get over all this, Mal,” Nora rolled to face him, “I think I’m just tired of being lonely.” He nodded,

“I understand that.” He said, and she felt his breath on her face.

 

They came together slowly; he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then found her mouth; his lips were slightly chilled, but his hands were warm,

“What are we doing?” He mumbled, but Nora only cupped his face,

“I have no idea.” She admitted, and he chuckled, “Do you want this?”

“So much,” he whispered,

“You’re drunk,” Nora said,

“So are you.”

 

Stalemate.

 

His hands slid under her sundress cautiously, and he grinned when she parted her legs to let him rest between them,

“You kill me,” he muttered into her ear, “every time you smile.” Nora closed her eyes he pulled her panties down slowly, tentatively, “Every time you laugh.”

“I want you.” She muttered and pushed her hand between them to pull at his belt; that, at least was true. He grinned and kicked his jeans down to his ankles while he dragged her dress up and over her head and dipped his head to catch her nipple between his teeth, “Oh god.”

“You’re perfect,” he nuzzled her neck gently as he worked a heavy hand between her legs, spreading the silky wetness around before he pushed two fingers deep into her, curling them to press on a sensitive, raw spot inside her. Nora gasped, shocked by how quickly her body had started to warm to the idea, and bit her lip as he pressed his thumb onto her her clit, “come for me?” She nodded, eyes sliding shut. Who could deny such a polite request? Danse ran his palm across her stomach, fingers trailing along the skin almost reverently. Nora whimpered and kicked, arching her back when he rubbed the right spot just so. He grunted suddenly, as if he had been punched in the stomach, and pushed away, dropping to his knees before he pulled her roughly toward him by the hips.

 

 

Danse kissed his way up her thigh with a smile, and then dragged his tongue slowly up her slit. He ate her like she was the only meal he had had in weeks; eagerly, sloppily, with relish. Nora gripped a fistful of his hair and bit her knuckles, whining as he closed his mouth on her and sucked hard enough to make her see stars.

“Fuck.” She whimpered, “Danse, please.” He struggled onto the bed, chuckling, pupils blown wide, mouth and chin wet, dark curls wild, and cursed as he tugged at his jeans, “You left your boots on.” She laughed,

“I left my boots on,” he said and flopped onto his back. Nora shook her head and threw her leg over him,

“I got you, soldier,” she laughed, gripping his cock firmly, slowly working her hand across it a few times while he whimpered and bucked. Nora rubbed him against her slit, working her hips in steady circles,

“I… are you sure?” He raised his brows, closing his eyes as she slid onto him,

“You want me to stop so you can take them off?” She asked as he kicked his feet,

“No!” He gripped her hip firmly, “No.”

“Alright then,” Nora laughed and pressed her palms onto his chest, “shirt off,” she prompted, tugging eagerly at the fabric as he hauled it over his head. He wasn’t Nick, but he was something. She trailed her hands over his shoulders, watched him close his eyes and smile as if something so simple was paradise. Guilt slithered into her stomach as she rolled her hips, _God what am I doing_ , he looked at her with such light in his eyes, _Oh God._ Nora closed her eyes to escaped the shame and didn’t open them even when he rolled them.

 

 

He struggled with his jeans, sighed, and at some point must have decided to work with what he had; he set a short, jagged rhythm that was surprisingly effective in making her whine into his shoulder. Her nails dug deep into the flesh on his back every time their hips met. The wet, ungainly sounds made it too real,

“Please.”

It was all she could say; _sorry_ would have been strange at best. She let the tears come when he couldn’t see them, _I’m so sorry,_

“Please.”

She bit her fist and shook when she came, ignored the way he whispered praise in her ear, pushed his hips away when he started to gasp himself. The wet heat on her stomach felt like an accusation, and when he returned with a wet cloth and wiped her clean Nora had to swallow the shame again,

“I…” she blinked at him when he pulled her under the covers.

“I know.” He said with sudden clarity; his eyes were sad, but he smiled, “It’s ok. I know.”


End file.
